Zouis One Shots

The Sweetest Submission, Drinking It In

To his relief, the boy was back in the middle of his room, not as close as his voice had just sounded.

“There’s a good lad,” the boy said.

“What’s the trick?” Zayn asked dubiously.

The boy chuckled softly. “I can fly.”

Nothing much else could have prepared for what Zayn saw next. One second the boy was standing on the carpet, the next he was levitating in the middle of his bedroom. The boy proceeded to change his position many times while floating: from crossing his legs to reclining on thin air to somersaulting across the room.

At this point Zayn had to rub his eyes and truly question whether he was dreaming or not.

“See? Pretty cool, innit?” the boy said.

Zayn nodded, bewildered.

“I’m Louis, by the way. What’s your name? How old are you?”

“Zayn. I’m eight,” he mindlessly replied, still in shock over talking to someone who was apparently resistant to gravity.

“Nice to meet you, Zayn. Listen, mate, I’m afraid I’m in a bit of trouble. I’d rather not tell you exactly what, but I know you can help me. Especially now, since I know you’re brave.”

“Um,” Zayn said. By now his heartbeat had slowed down enough to pass for regular again.

“You don’t have to do anything. I just need a place to stay for the night so I can get some sleep. Somewhere dark. Your room is perfect. I would be so grateful to you.”

“I don’t have a spare bed,” Zayn replied, eyebrows furrowed. He somehow found himself wanting to help this odd boy with the hypnotic, raspy voice. He seemed genuine. And, so far, unlikely to hurt Zayn.

“That’s alright. I prefer the floor anyways. Particularly when it’s under a bed. Would you mind if I just slept under here? I promise not to hurt you or anyone in your house. You have my word, Zayn.”

Zayn watched as Louis knelt next to him and held out a delicate, slender-fingered hand. Next thing he knew he was taking Louis’ hand, the skin rough and cold but not unpleasant, and shaking firmly.

“That’s a nice strong grip you’ve got,” Louis remarked.

Zayn smiled, despite the complete absurdity of the situation. “Are… are you gonna sleep? What if someone sees you?”

“Oh don’t worry about that. I’ll be gone before anyone wakes up. I promise. You can trust me, Zayn,” he said with what sounded like a smile.

Something about Louis made Zayn want to please him and help him and it made Zayn feel good knowing that he was doing that. So he just took a deep breath and watched as Louis got down on the floor and slid under his bed, not considering what the strange boy was hiding from or how he was going to sleep under there.

All he knew was that he was exhausted, so he lay back down, his room silent again except from his own breathing and the wind outside, and fell asleep, the last words he heard being “Good night, Zayn. Thank you for your help. It’s probably best not to tell anyone I was here.”

When Zayn woke up the next morning and checked under his bed, it was empty.

Over the next few days, Zayn convinced himself that the incident with the boy who called himself Louis was definitely a dream. He didn’t come again and Zayn didn’t mention it to anyone, knowing that it was absurd and most definitely a product of his imaginative mind. So he soon forgot about it ever happening and continued life as before.